He Of Whom Many Are Afraid Ought

My Praise Shall Be Dedicated To The Mind Itself. The Mind Is The Man, And The Knowledge Is The Mind. A Man Is But What He Knoweth. The Mind Is But An Accident To Knowledge, For Knowledge Is The Double Of That Which Is.

Hurl Your Calumnies Boldly; Something Is Sure To Stick.

The Images Of Mens Wits And Knowledge Remain In Books. They Generate Still, And Cast Their Seeds In The Minds Of Others, Provoking And Causing Infinite Actions And Opinions In Succeeding Ages

There Is No Vice That Doth So Cover A Man With Shame As To Be Found False And Perfidious.

Some Paint Comes Across Directly Onto The Nervous System And Other Paint Tells You The Story In A Long Diatribe Through The Brain.